Jackal Among Snakes

“What do you think?” Argrave questioned Anneliese. The two of them sat on rather comfortable chairs just before a table. Despite the safety of the tower, neither removed their enchanted armor—the Tower was safe, but it was still better to be overcautious. They were in a private room, warded to block sound—commonplace in the tower.

Anneliese crossed one leg over the other. “Of the tower?” she asked, and when Argrave nodded to confirm, she said, “It is a bit… ostentatious, if I am honest.”

“Got that right. It’s no coincidence it’s in the middle of a plain. It’s a big, useless monument to pride. I think Castro would agree. You met him before, now that I think back,” Argrave settled into his chair, then sighed. “Induen’s dead.”

“You feel relieved,” she said—a statement, not a question.

“Yeah,” Argrave said, voice distant. “The provisional route I made at the beginning of… whatever the hell you call my presence in this realm, it’s veered quite far off course. And now, I’m planning to take us further from it.”

“I will help as best I can,” Anneliese only assured him.

“How are you handling these developments?” Argrave asked her.

Anneliese shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “I have been trying to focus myself on this place, this tower, and what might be within… I suppose that should tell you enough. I am nervous. I am afraid. We have angered something very powerful.”

Argrave snorted. “Hearing you’re curious about this place just tells me you’re the same person at root.” He looked to her. “But forget about who we’ve angered. Induen’s death wasn’t a crime of passion—it was a great damned opportunity. King Felipe’s angry, I’m a kinslayer—all of these consequences pale in comparison to the good that one act did, pragmatically and morally.”

“I never said I doubted your actions,” Anneliese soothed.

“I know you didn’t. I said it half to myself, honestly. But…” Argrave adjusted his sleeve. “Hearing him make that suggestion about your future—that got under my skin like nothing else. If I could have made him—”

The door to the room opened, cutting Argrave off. A short man with a straight back and a wrinkled, almost leathery bald head entered. He seemed kind and harmless. He looked far too small to threaten or intimidate, and the amiable smile practically writ on his face spoke to his kindness. Calling him kind was true enough, but Castro was light years away from being harmless.

Argrave rose to his feet at once. “Tower Master Castro,” he said eagerly. “Thought we’d be waiting longer—planned for a long conversation with Anneliese.”

“Ah…” his eyes jumped between the two of them.

“I’m Argrave,” he put his hand to his chest. “We spoke at—”

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” Castro interrupted, then stepped a bit closer after he shut the door. “No, I was simply… deeply awed by your progress. Both of you… my memory is not perfect, but your improvements seem utterly tremendous.”

The fact he was happy eased Argrave—it likely meant he had not heard of Induen’s fate quite yet,

of the Rose-era creatures… large portions of both soul and magic power crystallize in the eye, preventing decay while retaining sight. The crystallized soul is the

turn to be awed when Castro so quickly

not why we’re here,” Argrave

you don’t know that,” Castro said, raising one finger above his head until he tapped

know an awful lot about necromancy.

pulled his finger back. “I am a curious person, and

“These are from surgery and alchemy, not necromancy.” Argrave shook his head, then sat back down at the chair.

nodded, though Argrave couldn’t tell if he was quite content. He turned to Anneliese. “Ah. We meet again, young lady Anneliese. Though your friend here drew my eye… you are

Castro,” she

Castro bobbed his head as he thought of something. “Well, I imagine you had other matters to discuss,” he said as he

insolence. Castro did not lead the Order of the Gray Owl because he was powerful alone—he was a shrewd

the chair. “But, at the end of the day, more members of the order are learning druidic spells. In time, they will permeate throughout the Order. All is well that ends well. And nothing concrete traces back to you… or your smuggler friends, there. After all, Elaine of Vyrbell might not have recommended Anneliese to be an

unnerving me if you know what we’ve done

It seemed a little less genial, now. Only a little. “So, what is it you want from me? Do you wish me to

said Anneliese. “And we did not

with a gift for my sister. I’m going to be visiting her soon, you see, and I can’t come

a sweet sentiment. I’m sure it will be appreciated. But how do I factor

of the Rose that might be recovered. That’s my offering to you,” Argrave held his hands up. “But within… there’s a little

tapped his finger against the armrest of the chair, staring at Argrave with wonder. “And

Argrave explained. “Hellish place. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I learned a lot. Gained a lot.” And made some unexpected acquaintances, he left that last part unspoken,

and Castro’s eyes

I can organize a team, have them come with you

Argrave leaned forward, trying to

frowned, bushy white brows descending. “I cannot. I have pressing

to Magister Moriatran to ask, next,” Argrave said—the man was ostensibly Castro’s largest rival, a councilor on the ruling body of the Order of the Gray Owl who opposed him

that is an entertaining notion, young man. Do you suppose he will even agree to meet you?” Castro laughed, then scratched his cheek. “I do not say I have matters to attend to for the sake of dodging this request—I am genuinely busy. My duties are light as the Tower Master, and this tower mostly runs itself… but I do still have

you other locations?” Argrave insisted, leaning yet more forward ‘til he nearly fell off the chair. “I can tell you

her, she shook her head to indicate it was hopeless. Argrave slumped back into the chair, finally

other concerns. Alas, the trappings of power.” Castro scratched the back of his neck. “I am told the Margrave sought aid from the Tower for the plague by your advice,” Castro noted. “And I’ve